


Let the Laws Be Clear

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Remix, Episode: s20e14 Part 33, Episode: s21e06 Murdered at a Bad Address, Getting Together, M/M, peter stone can choke, peter stone was yeeted out of a ninth story window by sonny carisi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: A slightly different take on Sonny calling Isaiah for help with the Hernandez case. What if, when he called, they'd been friends before?
Relationships: Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr./Isaiah Holmes
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Let the Laws Be Clear

"Professor Holmes?" 

Isaiah looks to the left at the sound of his name and startles at the sight of Sonny Carisi. "Mr, Carisi," he says. "Excuse me. Detective Carisi, still?"

Sonny gives him a wry smile, and Isaiah notes the tired way his mouth settles. "Yeah, but Sonny's fine, too."

"Okay," Isaiah agrees easily. "Then let's go with Isaiah for me."

Sonny's smile loosens a bit. "I'd like that. Thank you."

Isaiah snorts quietly. "You're welcome, I suppose." He puts the lid back on his to-go coffee and steps away from the condiment bar. "Still working out of Manhattan?"

"Yeah," Sonny says. He looks down at the to-go cup in his own hand, then looks out the picture window that fronts the shop. "I was just dropping off some paperwork for my Lieu. We caught a case, but there are more vics up here, so we figured we'd let your guys have it."

"Queens SVU doesn't have Manhattan's clearance rate, but we also don't have Olivia Benson."

Sonny's smile finally loses the last of its tiredness. "You guys do all right. There's a lot of good people in that squad."

"There are," Isaiah agrees. He isn't surprised when Sonny follows him out of the coffee shop. There's something he wants to ask. Isaiah is certain. He remembers Sonny from class, open to discussion and willing to listen. Tired, sometimes, but not like what Isaiah is seeing now. He seems worn down, like his skin has gotten thin and the slightest breeze hurts. 

"Mind if I walk you back to your office?" Sonny asks. 

"Not at all," Isaiah replies. He gives Sonny half a block, but Sonny says nothing. "Something's bothering you," he says. 

Sonny sighs and takes a long drink of his coffee. "I wasn't in there waiting for you to show up. You just happened to be there."

Isaiah cuts him a look, but Sonny's staring straight ahead. "Okay," Isaiah says slowly. "I don't mind talking to you if you need to talk about something. If I don't have anything useful to say, I'll admit it."

Sonny huffs and rubs the side of his neck. "What do you know about Peter Stone?"

"He's...got an admirable legacy to live up to." Isaiah catches the way Sonny's mouth quirks and laughs. "I guess I didn't sell you on that line."

"No."

"Ben Stone was a prosecutor of rare talent and sympathy," Isaiah says. "He guest-lectured in several of my classes, and he showed me the sort of attorney I wanted to be."

"That's how I feel about Barba," Sonny says. He meets Isaiah's gaze when Isaiah looks at him. "He stood by every choice he made even when it wasn't the easy one."

Isaiah nods slowly. "That's true." He sips his coffee. "I won't pretend like I know Peter Stone, and I've only heard minimal gossip."

"What's the gossip say?"

"He's a word of law sort of man," Isaiah says. Sonny nods. "And SVU isn't really a great place for a word of law man."

Sonny sighs again and looks at Isaiah briefly before looking straight ahead again. "I could appreciate a word of law sort of ADA," he says so quietly it almost gets lost under the general noise of the street. 

Isaiah's office comes into view, and he waits until they're in front of the building before touching Sonny's arm to direct him out of sidewalk traffic and behind one of the pillars at the front of the building. "I was serious that you could talk to me," he says. 

Sonny leans against the pillar and looks at Isaiah. "The state of New York recognizes martial rape," he says. "Peter Stone doesn't think it counts if the spouse being raped doesn't say no out loud."

"The Pearl trial," Isaiah says.

"Yeah." Sonny blinks quickly, clears his throat, and unabashedly wipes at his eyes. "Stone said that because Annabeth never said no out loud, it doesn't count as rape. And he thinks that's the word of law."

"What do you think?"

"I think that the law does not specify that a person has to actually say the word 'no'. And I think a word of law attorney can still be humane in their decisions and offer a plea."

"Barba would have offered a plea," Isaiah says. He gives Sonny a small smile when Sonny cuts him a look. "I would have as well," he says. "No prior criminal record, plenty of people who can testify her husband was mentally and emotionally abusive. I'd request a psych eval from a third-party professional neither the defense nor myself personally chose, just to cover my bases, but unless the shrink came back saying she was an expert-level manipulator who'd played us all, there's no reason not to plea out."

Sonny looks thoughtful. "Are you a word of law guy?"

Isaiah chuckles quietly. "Not really. But I know quite a few I would trust to make the same decision."

"That's good to hear."

Isaiah wants to offer some words of comfort, but he finds he doesn't have any. He simply doesn't know Sonny well enough. "Do you need to get back to Manhattan right away?" he asks before he can second-guess himself. "You sound like you could use a little time talking about a case as a lawyer, not a cop, and I've got a few files I could use a second opinion on."

Sonny looks at him like he's offered some great rescue. "I'm up to my ass in overtime. The Lieu said if I could drop off the files and find a reason to beg off, she'd accept."

Isaiah tilts his head towards the doors of the building and watches Sonny's shoulders relax. "Come on up. I can't put you on the payroll, but I'll buy a late lunch."

"Sounds good," Sonny says. "Thank you."

*

The Sonny that Isaiah remembers from class has a few more years of being a detective under his belt and has clearly kept up with the New York Law Review. He also isn't hindered by a classroom environment with a very finite amount of time to cover a single topic. He's quick to throw out ideas and just as quick to listen and adjust his argument. He takes in not just Isaiah's words, but also his body language, teasing him lightly when Isaiah makes a bad faith argument. 

"You're bullshitting," he says, and his smile and laugh are both the most genuine Isaiah's heard from him since they ran into each other at the coffee shop. "You're just trying to see what I'll say if you catch me off guard."

Isaiah laughs with him and holds up his hands. "Busted," he says. "Let's order lunch, and I'll see if I can trick you when you've got a full stomach."

Sonny puts his hands behind his head and arches his back to stretch. "It won't work, but I won't stop you trying."

*

It becomes a semi-regular thing. Every few weeks, Sonny texts Isaiah, or Isaiah texts Sonny, and they end up in his office or out somewhere for dinner, arguing case law and discussing appellate decisions. Over time, other topics creep in. They have similar taste in movies, Isaiah finds out, and they both like to swim to get their exercise. Isaiah can't hide his surprise when Sonny mentions being a practicing Catholic.

"Really?"

Sonny laughs and shifts so he can pull something from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, which is hanging off the back of his chair. They're at a bistro Isaiah enjoys, and the low light hits Sonny's rosary at just the right angle to make it appear to glow. 

"Wait," Isaiah says as he stares at the rosary. He reaches out to touch it but stops himself. 

"Here," Sonny says, unwrapping the rosary from his knuckles and curling the whole thing into his palm. "Don't worry. It won't bite."

Isaiah plucks the rosary from Sonny's hand and presses the cross into his palm as he carefully straightens the beads up his forearm. There's no mistaking the layout of the rainbow beads. Isaiah looks at Sonny, who is looking at the rosary with a pleased smile. "I doubt this is an approved rosary of the Catholic Church."

"Not in the least," Sonny says. "But my parish priest was the one who gifted it to me when he found out it existed."

"Really?" Isaiah says with a disbelieving laugh.

"Yeah." Sonny looks at the rosary again. "I know it's antithetical to be a happy queer and a practicing Catholic, but I've been blessed over and over again with acceptance. There are people at Mass who don't like seeing me or my rosary there, but there are teenagers and kids who see me and my rosary, and the way they light up…" Sonny trails off. "All I have to do to help is show up and be who I am, and I'm showing the next generation of practicing Catholics that being queer doesn't mean being without the protection of God."

Isaiah has a shivery bolt of awareness as he watches the way Sonny's face softens. He is a beautiful man, lit from the inside by a quiet conviction in himself and in the world. As Isaiah carefully wraps the rosary into a loop and hands it back to Sonny, he cannot deny the truth that sits in front of him: Sonny Carisi is intelligent and determined and kind and wants to be a good force upon the world. And Isaiah is more than mildly smitten. 

The conversation shifts to baseball, then to a movie Sonny had watched the previous week. Isaiah listens to Sonny's enthusiasm for the film and thinks about kissing him goodnight. Would Sonny be okay with it, or does he see them as simply friends?

When they part a block away from the restaurant so Sonny can hop on the subway to go home, Isaiah doesn't try for a kiss. It's been an excellent evening, and he doesn't want to shift the tone of it by making a move he's only just realized he wants. He'd rather let this evening be the enjoyment it has been and start planning with intent to make it clear he'd like to date Sonny properly.

*

Before Isaiah can put any plan of romance into action, Sonny texts him that Peter Sone is moving back to Chicago, and he's decided to make the leap to the DA's office. Isaiah texts back encouragement and an offer at a letter of recommendation. 

Sonny responds back that he's covered for letters and that the DA is willing to fast-pace his interview process given his long relationship with a lot of the people who generally handle interviews. He promises to let Isaiah know how things go.

Isaiah laughs when he reads that text. It's very clear to him how this is going to go, but Sonny's humble to his core even when he's basically being handed a job wrapped in a bow. 

He hears nothing back, which is surprising, but he remembers his own early days as the newest ADA and assumes Sonny's dealing with the same punishing schedule. He sends a couple of texts, forwards a few interesting articles, and eventually calls people he knows in Manhattan who like to tease him about his students showing up in the hallowed halls of One Hogan Place. 

"We've got a junior ADA who mentioned you today," Cyrus tells Isaiah as they casually bullshit one afternoon. "Sonny Carisi."

"He's a good man," Isaiah says because his annoyance of not hearing back won't stop him from giving Sonny his due. His once-growing crush has settled to a slightly bittersweet disappointment. "You're lucky to have him."

Cyrus snorts. "Glad I'm not his chief. From what I hear, his old squad is jumping up his ass on every case like he's gonna make evidence appear because they say so."

Isaiah can't imagine Sonny bending the law like that, not even for his old squad. "Is he trying to pull warrants out of thin air?"

"Nah. He refuses to make it easy for them, which is pretty fucking admirable. But he also has a really different view of the law then Hadid, and they've already gotten into it a few times."

Isaiah can believe it. He doesn't know Hadid personally, but from what he's heard of her work, she has a personal philosophy on the law that won't easily mesh with Sonny's determination to show kindness. "Hearing you get pissed at someone's old squad trying to get a new ADA to bend the rules is hilarious," he says instead of mentioning it. 

"Oh, go fuck yourself," Cyrus says. 

Isaiah laughs. "Give my best to Ed."

"Yeah, yeah."

*

And then, after four months of silence, Sonny texts Isaiah asking if they can meet for dinner. Isaiah agrees because he wants to see Sonny, but he also gets the feeling he's about to be hit up for a favor. He's not sure how he feels about it, going from a comfortable and growing friendship to being someone Sonny calls for a favor.

He agrees to dinner the next evening, and Sonny sends another text, explaining he has an ulterior motive and that he'll email Isaiah some information. 

The email comes in a few minutes later. Carlos Hernandez. Isaiah isn't familiar with the case. There's a vague feeling of disappointment in the back of his mind that he tries to ignore. He wishes it were a social dinner, no favors attached, but he also knows that Sonny wouldn't be asking for help without good reason, so he settles in to review the case file. 

*

When he arrives at the restaurant the next night, he can't help himself from taking a little dig. "So you did it?"

Sonny turns towards him and immediately holds out his hand. "Hi."

"From detective to ADA." Isaiah keeps the handshake short and his tone professional. "How's it going?"

"Oh, I miss my gun, and the pay cut's no fun," Sonny says as they both sit down, "but I still remember what you said my first day in your class."

That piques Isaiah's interest. "Yeah, what was that?"

"Better 100 guilty men go free than one innocent man be condemned." 

Isaiah gets hit with a hard wave of fondness and can't meet Sonny's gaze. "You know I was quoting Voltaire." He's certain of it because he and Sonny have discussed Voltaire before, during one of their dinners from months ago.

"Of course," Sonny says, and the sincerity on his face increases Isaiah's fondness, "but it was the way--the way you said it. It was like you believed in it. That's why I brought this to you."

Sonny's face is open and hopeful, and Isaiah finds himself nodding without meaning to. 

"Did you get a chance to go over the case file?" 

Isaiah's gut rolls the same way it did when he read the details in the file. He takes a breath and settles a bit more firmly in his chair. "Carlos Hernandez had a terrible lawyer. He and Rickey, they were kids." He doesn't mean to pause for a moment as he recites what he's learned, but he can't help himself. "They had their whole lives taken from them," he says and looks at Sonny. He hears the shift in his own voice and can tell by Sonny's expression he's picked up on it as well.

"So, you can help Carlos get out?"

He doesn't know about Keane, Isaiah realizes. He has to look away so Sonny doesn't read the mild fear he knows he carries whenever he has to talk about Keane. "Look, it's tough to get any DA to overturn a case, let alone over here in Queens." He can't help glancing in the opposite direction, briefly scanning for anyone who might overhear him. The tables around them are empty. It's a small relief. "But a rape and double murder my boss built his career on?" He can look at Sonny now, give him one of his long-perfected, no-nonsense stares. Maybe it'll be enough for Sonny to back down. 

"There's no DNA," Sonny says. His stare isn't level at all. There's exhaustion in the lines of his face and a soft determination in his eyes. He's not here to get talked out of anything, Isaiah realizes in a single moment. He's here to convince Isaiah to help, period. "Manhattan SVU has matched it to a guy who's good for a series of housing projects rapes."

The way Sonny is leaning slightly towards him, pointing a finger at the table to make his point, it reminds Isaiah of a lot of the conversations they had in his office. It's easy to fall into the pattern of those conversations again. "Did he confess to this?" Isaiah asks. Sonny looks away for the first time, and Isaiah sighs. He's more annoyed than he honestly should be, but sitting here across from Sonny, the weight of this favor heavy between them, he feels used, and he doesn't like it. "Why would he? He knows it's a closed case, two confessions--"

"They both recanted," Sonny interrupts. "Ricky in a dying declaration."

"Yeah, I read that, too," Isaiah replies, matter-of-fact and determined not to fall into the emotion in Sonny's voice and posture. Sonny doesn't know about Keane, and Isaiah needs to keep it that way. The respect of the entire Queens's DA office depends on it.

"I know this was Keane's case," Sonny says, shifting from heightened emotion to a leveled explanation so quickly that Isaiah is a bit stunned, "but once he hears the preponderance of exculpatory evidence--"

"You haven't heard--" is out before Isaiah can stop it. He wants to swallow it back, but he can't. Sonny's gaze has gone sharp. He's given himself away. The weight of the secret feels exponentially heavier and somehow the tiniest bit lighter, Isaiah thinks as he decides to just tell the truth. Of all the people Isaiah fears finding out about Keane, he knows without question that Sonny will be careful how he uses the information. "About Keane."

Sonny tilts his head slightly, reminding Isaiah of a hawk suddenly spotting a mouse, but there's nothing predatory in his face, just confusion and interest, and that same determination he'd had when he'd started talking. "No," he says. "What about him?"

Isaiah takes a deep breath. "Come by the office tomorrow," he says. "I'll make introductions," he offers. "It's easier if you just see it yourself."

Sonny narrows his eyes, seeming to track every tiny movement on Isaiah's face. "Okay," he says. "Does that mean you'll help?"

"I can't answer that yet," Isaiah says. 

Sonny nods slowly. "Okay." He leans forward, then back. His shoulders relax, and he raises his hand towards the bartender. "Let's get menus, then. Catch up some." He looks at Isaiah again. "Actually, before we catch up, I owe you an apology."

"Oh?" Isaiah asks, surprised. 

"I ghosted you pretty bad, and now I'm showing up looking for a big favor," Sonny says. He pauses as the bartender drops off menus and asks if Isaiah wants a drink. Isaiah points at Sonny's own beer to order one for himself. "I didn't mean to just stop answering you," Sonny continues again. "I didn't think switching to the DA's office would be such a major thing, but it's been…" He shrugs. "It doesn't matter what it's been, honestly. What matters is I disappeared, and it was a shitty thing to do. I'm sorry I did it. I hope you'll give me the chance to be a better friend."

Isaiah takes a few moments before he answers, watching Sonny watch him. Sonny looks relaxed, if a bit embarrassed. No sign he's going to push Isaiah to agree it's all okay now that Sonny's apologized. "I've missed talking to you," he says. "I'm happy to forgive you. I remember my first few months on the job. Well, parts of them, anyway."

Sonny chuckles, which is exactly what Isaiah was going for. "Okay, so not being sure what day it is is just part of it, huh?"

"Oh, that's expectation number one," Isaiah says and is glad when Sonny chuckles again. 

They order dinner and catch up. Sonny talks a bit about feeling split between the expectations of his old squad and the need to make sure the cases he gets from them actually have enough evidence to be pushed forward from his end. 

"It's like they think I’ll make evidence appear out of thin air," he says after he and Isaiah have each ordered a second beer. "And every time I tell them to do their jobs, it feels like they think I'm playing dress up and don't deserve to be taken seriously."

"Do you know Cyrus Lupo?" Isaiah asks. "He worked Homicide while he went through law school, similar to what you did."

Sonny shakes his head. "Name doesn't ring a bell."

"I'll get you his email. He went through some of the stuff you're dealing with. He'll be happy to talk to you about how annoying it is."

Sonny smiles. "I appreciate that, thank you." He nods when the bartender drops off his new beer and takes a quick drink. "And how are you?" he asks. "I got those articles you forwarded. Should I be worried you're reading up on embezzlement law?"

"No, of course not. I don't even know how my offshore bank account works," Isaiah says, and this time, Sonny full-out laughs. "I'm doing well," he says when Sonny's laughter dies down. "Work and home and occasionally dinner out. Nothing terribly interesting."

"It sounds nice," Sonny says. "I look forward to getting a schedule set up, even if it's not entirely possible every day. I haven't been able to do any real cooking for months. I miss it."

"That must be maddening," Isaiah says. He remembers how Sonny talked about food during their dinners, how animated and happy it made him. Isaiah's not much of a cook himself, but he can appreciate taking in someone else's enthusiasm. "Not even something simple for a slow cooker?"

"I'm basically living off my slow cooker," Sonny says, "which is fine, but I miss actual cooking. Prepping everything just to put it in a pot and leave just isn't the same."

Isaiah makes a sympathetic noise. "It'll get easier," he says. "You'll find your rhythm and figure out how to have a life away from your desk again."

"Your mouth to God's ears," Sonny mutters. He shakes his head like he's shaking off a bad mood. "You're right," he says, and he sounds sure of himself now. "And when I get it figured out, you should come over for dinner. I'll make whatever you want."

Isaiah's dormant crush rises to the surface like it's been waiting to come back to life. "I'd like that," he says, grateful his voice sounds even to his own ears. He takes a long drink of beer as Sonny beams and rattles off a list of possible dishes. "Those all sound amazing," Isaiah says, though he's honestly heard none of them. He'd been concentrating on tamping his feelings down to something manageable in the moment.

"Well, we've got time to narrow it down," Sonny says. "Maybe we can make it a victory dinner after we help Carlos." 

Isaiah thinks about Keane and has to fight not to flinch. "I hope so," he says. "We'll have to see what Keane says."

*

Walking into Keane's office the next day with Sonny a step behind, Isaiah feels nauseated. He makes the introductions and winces when Keane immediately loses the thread of the conversation and makes a joke about Far Rockaway. He can't look at Sonny as Sonny tries to explain the facts of the case and Keane explains the name behind Shea Stadium. 

"I did know that, one, Sir," Sonny says after Keane's explanation. He doesn't say anything about the fact that Shea Stadium hasn't existed for a decade but Keane mentioned it in the present tense. "Um, now, I know you're very busy Mr. Keane, but--" he falters for less than a full moment, but in that small silence, Isaiah can feel the depth of his confusion. "The reason I'm here," Sonny says, speaking a bit more slowly like he's trying to confirm he has Keane's attention, "is about getting justice for Carlos Hernandez." 

"Hernandez," Keane says, and for a brief moment, Isaiah thinks perhaps the man has come back to himself and remembers. "What a good first baseman. You know, the Mets couldn't have won anything in '86 without him," Keane says to Isaiah. Isaiah can only nod in silence, digging his fingers hard into the soft meat just above the elbows of his crossed arms to keep from responding. He can't. Not right now.

Isaiah feels Sonny's eyes on him, and he gives him a quick look. Sonny looks a bit lost. Isaiah wishes he had some way to help. 

"I believe that was Keith, Sir," Sonny says to Keane, still polite in tone but his body language radiates with confusion and concern. 

Keane hums in response. Isaiah grits his teeth as Sonny unfolds the motion to vacate he's brought along and presents it to Keane. Isaiah is both relieved and saddened that Keane manages to gather his senses and direct Sonny to leave the motion on the table. He doesn't miss the way Sonny takes in the stacks of folders, and he opens his mouth to get them both out of there. 

"I want to impress upon you both not to leave law school," Keane says, and Isaiah wishes he didn't have to hear this again. He wishes Sonny didn't have to hear it at all. He wishes he didn't have to see the look on Sonny's face as Keane finishes the most-repeated thing Isaiah's heard him say in the last few years. "It can be a rewarding career."

Sonny looks at Isaiah, then back at Keane. Isaiah is trapped at the way Sonny's face shifts, from polite but determined professional to a man who is realizing that this once-titan of their field has clearly been defeated by his own mind. "Okay, Sir," Sonny says, and Isaiah isn't completely sure there aren't tears in Sonny's eyes.

They leave Keane's office in silence. Isaiah has to stretch his aching fingers once he drops his arms. Sonny keeps step with him as they walk back to Isaiah's office. He's the one who closes the door behind them. 

"Dementia?" Sonny asks quietly, looking at Isaiah with sympathy and concern. 

Isaiah nods slowly. "It was a slow slide downward until recently."

"How long have you known about memory problems?"

Isaiah breathes out hard. "Years."

" _Years_?!" Sonny hisses. "How has no one caught on?"

"It was a slow process," Isaiah says. "It started with him forgetting a few names, a few bits of case law. We all thought it was just that he was getting older. His deputies picked up the slack, and it was...fine...for a long time."

"But it's gotten noticeably worse lately?" Sonny asks. 

"The last six months have been bad," Isaiah admits. He feels relieved to admit it out loud. He hasn't told anyone about what's been happening. "It's like he was creeping towards the edge of a cliff and just...fell."

"Why not announce his retirement?"

"He's in the last year of his term. It'll be easier to quietly remove him from office if there's an election going on. He's never been a particularly public DA, but if he vacates his office early, he'll have to give a press conference and answer a lot of questions. Which, clearly, he is incapable of doing."

Sonny doesn't say anything for a long moment. Isaiah hates how closed off his face is, like he's shut off his reactions as he considers everything he's been told. Finally, Sonny sighs heavily. "I'm not sorry we found out that Carlos is innocent, but I'm sorry I forced your hand in this. It's a mess."

"You didn't force anything," Isaiah says. "It was his case. He has to sign off on the motion to vacate. I let his deputies know what I needed from him, and they tried to prep him, but..."

"Are there any appeals on his cases right now? How much trouble gets made if word gets out about what's happening right now?"

"His deputies have taken care of it. They both have signature approval, so there's nothing technically illegal about what they're doing."

"Still," Sonny says. He closes his eyes for a moment, and Isaiah watches his shoulders slump. "As far as anyone knows, he's able to make his own decisions. Signature approval doesn't matter when it's a motion to vacate. If the attorney who prosecuted the case is still active, it has to be their own signature."

"I know," Isaiah says. 

"Isaiah," Sonny replies. The line of his jaw is sharp as he clenches his teeth. "I won't let an innocent man continue to live in fear in prison because it'll give your office a bit of a black eye, but...you're my friend, and I don't want to put you into a worse situation than you're already in."

Isaiah sighs and stares at the ceiling for a moment, Sonny's sincerity hitting him hard. "What about a retrial?" he asks. "I know it's not ideal, but you wouldn't need Keane's sign-off for that."

"It could take months to set one up," Sonny replies. "Carlos shouldn't be forced to wait that long for something he shouldn't have to go through to get free."

Isaiah shakes his head. "I know. But you don't have a confession from the guy you know did it, so it's not like you can move forward with that trial right now. And without a good alibi from Carlos, you've got another hole in your case a decent defense attorney can make a meal out of."

Sonny glares at Isaiah, and Isaiah feels cold. "You're right," Sonny says. "Not that I like to say it, but you are."

"I'm not trying to be cruel--"

"I know." Sonny holds up a hand, and Isaiah holds his tongue. "Let me…" he looks around Isaiah's office like he's going to find an answer written on the walls. "I need to tell the Captain everything. It's only right. She's had my back on this from the beginning. I won't give her half-truths to explain why the motion isn't signed."

"Do you think Benson will let this pass? Everything with Keane, I mean."

Sonny shrugs. "I don't know. If Liv thinks people aren't getting treated fairly because of all this, she'll report it, and honestly, I'll back her because that's exactly what's happening right now."

Isaiah can't meet Sonny's gaze. He rubs a hand over his hair and wishes circumstances were different. "Leave the motion with me," he says, still looking at his shoes. "Keane still has some moments of lucidity. I'll ask his deputies to call me when he seems like he's able to make decisions. Maybe I can get in there before the end of the day and get it signed."

Sonny gives him a long look that Isaiah can't read. "Okay," he says finally and takes the motion from his pocket. "If Liv decides she needs to report what's happening here, I'll try to give you a heads up."

"I don't deserve it," Isaiah replies, taking the motion. "I've been covering for him, too."

"Don't tell me what my friend does or doesn't deserve," Sonny says. The smile he gives Isaiah is small, but it's real. 

Isaiah feels a small smile settle onto his own face. "Thank you," he says. "I appreciate that."

Sonny squeezes his shoulder. "Keep your chin up."

"Do my best," Isaiah says and for the first time since he'd realized he'd have to let Sonny see Keane, he feels like maybe things will be okay. 

*

Isaiah goes home that night without Keane's signature. He lays the vacate order on his coffee table and pours himself a self-hating amount of gin on the rocks. He strips down to his undershirt and slacks and sits on the couch, staring at the vacate order as his drink sweats in his hand. 

His phone buzzes with a text, Sonny's name lighting up his screen. Isaiah takes a sip of his drink and swipes his thumb across his phone. 

**Sonny:** Fin and I spoke to Carlos again.  
**Sonny:** He gave an alibi.  
**Sonny:** It can technically wait until tomorrow, but I'd appreciate if you could make some time to talk tonight. Over the phone is fine.

Isaiah takes a deep breath and taps the button to call Sonny. 

"Hey, Isaiah," Sonny says, picking up halfway through the first ring. He sighs heavily. "Carlos and Ricky were a couple," he says, and it sounds like it hurts to say it. "They were at Plumb Beach the night of the murders."

Isaiah remembers Plumb Beach. He'd been there himself sixteen years ago. He was thirty-one, single, and not quite sure if he was ready to settle down. He'd met a few guys there; laughed and flirted and gone into the ocean to do more than that if the mood struck. He'd been happy there, in the sun and in the twilight, comfortable to be out and gay and surrounded by men who--he had generally assumed--felt the same. 

"I used to go to Plumb Beach," Isaiah says.

"Me too," Sonny replies. "Hell, I might have been there the same night Carlos and Ricky were there."

"Yeah," Isaiah says, realizing it might be true for him as well. 

The quiet they fall into is one Isaiah knows entirely too well. It's the quiet of two people realizing how lucky they've been to be _able_ to be out and proud and comfortable sixteen years ago when so many in their community couldn't be. When so many in their community still can't. The realization of what Sonny's told him makes Isaiah's chest ache. 

"He can't use that alibi," he says. "If word gets around the prison…"

"That's what happened to Ricky," Sonny says, and he sounds like his heart is breaking. "That's how he got sick."

Isaiah can't speak for a few moments. He takes another sip of his drink and presses the glass to his temple. "What about protective custody?" he says finally. 

"He's got PTSD and depression. Stick him in protective custody, and he could suicide." 

And he shouldn't need it anyway, Isaiah thinks, staring at the vacate order. He sets his drink on the coffee table and drops his head into his hand. He can't bring himself to offer the retrial option again. It's beyond unfair. This whole situation is beyond unfair. 

"He's innocent," Sonny says quietly. "He's innocent, and he should never have had to lie about his whereabouts in the first place."

"I know," Isaiah replies. "I do. It's just…" He takes a deep breath and sits up straight. "Give me a night's sleep to…" Isaiah sighs. "To figure out what Voltaire would do."

"You know what Voltaire would do," Sonny says, and Isaiah is surprised he sounds more sympathetic than angry. "But we're lawyers, not philosophers."

"Thank you," Isaiah says.

"Try to sleep," Sonny says. "I'll try, too."

"Good night, Sonny."

"Night, Isaiah."

*

Isaiah sleeps, but not well. When he wakes up, it's four in the morning, and he knows there's no point in going back to sleep. He gets out of bed and takes a long shower, then makes breakfast. He stares at the vacate order. It's on top of his briefcase, as if there's any chance he'd forget it. 

He eats and does his dishes, then has an extra cup of coffee as he looks out the window and makes peace with his decision. He calls Sonny at six-thirty. 

"Hey, good morning," Sonny answers, sounding awake. There's a sizzling sound in the background. He's making breakfast.

"Does Carlos have an attorney?" Isaiah asks. 

"Yeah."

"Get them out of bed and have them arrange transport to Queens."

Sonny doesn't answer right away. "Isaiah, are you--"

"Sonny, I need you to call the lawyer and not ask questions. I may not be able to do what I'm about to try to do, but I want everything in place before I explain."

"Why?"

"Because we both know what Voltaire would do, but I may be bending his ethics a bit more than he'd like". 

"What about yours?" Sonny asks. "Whatever you're planning, can yours recover from this?"

"Yes," Isaiah answers, though he's not sure he believes it right this second. "I think so, at least."

There's a long pause. "I haven't stopped considering the retrial option," Sonny says. 

"You might be the kindest person I've ever met," Isaiah replies.

"Don't sell yourself short," Sonny says. "That's my friend you're talking about."

*

The urge to bolt from Keane's office makes a shiver run down Isaiah's spine. He stares straight ahead, sets his jaw, and allows himself a brisk walk. Nothing out of the ordinary in the middle of the courthouse. Nothing anyone will read anything into.

"The transport van just dropped Carlos off outside the courthouse. You wanna tell me what's going on, Counselor?"

Isaiah nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Sonny's voice and the use of his title,, but he doesn't stop moving. He can't until it's done. Isaiah looks at the vacate order. There's a damp spot on it from where he's been clutching it hard in his hand. "Keane signed the vacate order," he says, trying his best to sound like it's no big deal.

"He did? That's great." Sonny takes the order, and Isaiah hears that micro-pause again, the same one Sonny used when meeting Keane a few days ago. "How'd you get him to--to do that?" 

Isaiah looks at his shoes. He can't look at Sonny when he tells him what he's done to get that signature. It may be too far for Sonny's ethics, and he doesn't want to have to face that right this second. "He may have thought he was graciously signing a letter of recommendation for my law school application." He gives Sonny one quick look but can't maintain eye contact.

Sonny scoffs. "Okay, I didn't hear that," he says, and Isaiah can't help but steal another look. Sonny's smiling and looking hopeful. Isaiah feels relief like a shocking cold bucket of water. "And you did not say that, but thank you."

"Welcome to Queens," Isaiah replies, needing to get a step away from his own emotions. "Let's go do this before the ink dries or any of his deputies find out." He puts a hand on Sonny's back, not so much to make him move faster, but to simply be sure Sonny is still walking beside him and isn't ashamed of his actions.

"I know this wasn't easy for you," Sonny says quietly as they near the courtroom door. "But you're saving a man's life. I hope that helps."

"Well, light a candle for my conscience after we do this," Isaiah replies, opening the door and gesturing Sonny in.

Sonny hands the vacate order back to him. "I'll say a prayer, too," he says, and his sincerity punches Isaiah right in the gut.

Sonny introduces Isaiah to Sergeant Tutuola--the Fin he'd mentioned in his text the night before, Isaiah discovers, and then Carlos's lawyer introduces himself. They shake hands and stand for the judge, and then Isaiah sits and waits and tries not to fidget as they wait for Carlos to walk into the courtroom. 

When Carlos comes in, head bowed and shoulders rolled forward, something behind Isaiah's ribs aches in anger and sympathy and furious disgust at the system he works within that takes innocent men and turns them into prisoners. The guilt he's feeling from tricking Keane disappears in an instant. There's nothing wrong with what he's done. Carlos deserves to be free. He deserves to have his record cleared. Tricking Keane was the only avenue to guarantee both outcomes. It's imperfect and messy, but it's justice. Voltaire would agree.

He glances at Sonny, but Sonny doesn't notice. He's watching Carlos, his face an open book of grief and concern. Isaiah knows without question that Sonny's prayed for Carolos, though he's never mentioned it. Isaiah wonders if there's a prayer for the wrongly convicted, something he could look at and get a glimpse of the compassion and determination that clearly drives Sonny. 

He rolls through the hearing on autopilot, unable to do anything except say the words he practiced on repeat last night after he'd made his plan to get the motion signed. He watches the judge give Carlos an apology and wonders if it can do any good. An innocent man has lost sixteen years of his life because being gay was more terrifying than being wrongly convicted. It makes Isaiah want to scream. 

"Baliffs, take off those chains."

As the baliffs follow the judge's order, Isaiah can finally move again. He turns to look at Sonny and discovers Sonny is already looking at him. He looks how Isaiah feels--grateful they've been able to free Carlos but feeling the injustice of all of it without question. 

Sonny and Sargeant Tutuola stand as Carlos's chains come off, and the action makes Isaiah's heart constrict. Carlos Hernandez will not get a parade for being released, but two good men will stand and greet him as he deserves. 

"You can walk like a man now, Carlos," Sergeant Tutuola says as Carlos takes his first, few careful steps without his ankle cuffs. 

"A free man," Sonny adds, his voice a bit thready, and this time, there's no question if he's got tears in his eyes. Isaiah does as well, and so does Carlos. Carlos gives Sonny and Tutuola a barely-there nod.

"You are free to go, Mr. Hernandez," the judge says. "Please do not wait on my account." She bangs her gavel and stands from the bench, exiting the courtroom with no fanfare. Isaiah likes her.

Tutuola and Sonny both shake Carlos's hand and say a few words to him, and then Carlos turns to Isaiah with his hand out. Isaiah blinks in surprise, standing as he meets him halfway. 

"Thank you," Carlos says.

"I didn't do anything," Isaiah replies. 

"You showed up," Carlos says. He squeezes Isaiah's hand for a moment before he releases it. "A lot of people wouldn't. Not for a guy who could dent his boss's legacy."

"Mr. Keane believes in justice," Isaiah says, surprised at his own words. They're true. He knows that from the years he worked with Keane before the man's mind began to crumble. "A few dents to a legacy are always worth that."

Carlos looks like he doesn't fully believe Isaiah--Isaiah doesn't blame him--but his lawyer steps up and leads him away before he can say anything about it. 

Isaiah turns towards the gallery and watches Tutuola speak quietly to Sonny, then squeeze his shoulder and walk away, paying Isaiah no attention. Sonny looks at Isaiah like he can feel him watching, and there's a confidence and relaxation to his body that Isaiah hasn't seen since Sonny first told him about Carlos's case. 

"Thank you," Sonny says quietly, eyes bright with relief and happiness.

"I didn't do anything," Isaiah replies. 

"You did a lot," Sonny says.

"I did what was right," Isaiah counters. "What happens now?"

"There's a Gofundme," Sonny tells him. "His mother and sister have never had a headstone, but now they will. And there's enough to set up Carlos in an apartment and let him have some time to get used to the world again. He can use some of the funds for job training, if he wants. A handful of therapists have already offered free counseling if he wants to pursue it."

Isaiah shakes his head in amazement. "Did you do all that?"

"I didn't do any of it," Sonny replies, and his entire face changes. He looks content to his bones, like the world has shown him something special that he'll treasure. "His community is rallying around him. The people from his old building. The queer community. All of it."

Isaiah simply looks at Sonny for a few seconds, taking in the soft warmth that envelopes him and seems to trickle off in tendrils to invite him to share in it. "Is there a patron saint for the wrongfully convicted?" he asks. He's surprised when Sonny flushes pink. 

"Yes," Sonny says. He squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back. "It's St. Dominic," He says through gritted teeth.

Isaiah barks a laugh. "You're joking."

Sonny drops his head. His laugh is quieter than Isaiah's, but it's genuine. "Nope," he says. "Though at least we spell it differently."

Isaiah laughs again. "Well, you've certainly earned your name today."

Sonny gives him another soft smile, and Isaiah feels a tug low in his gut. He wants to step forward and dip his head and kiss that smile.

"Isaiah?" Sonny asks, head tilted in question at whatever's showing on Isaiah's face. 

Isaiah sways forward without meaning to. Something sharp flashes in Sonny's eyes, and then he's straightening his head and tilting his chin up as he stands on his toes. He brushes the lightest of kisses against Isaiah's mouth, then holds still, his lips a hair's-breadth from Isaiah's.

"Sonny," Isaiah says quietly. Sonny doesn't move. Isaiah does. He presses forward and closes the minuscule space between them. Sonny sighs into his mouth, and he lifts one hand to curl around the side of Isaiah's neck, his thumb stroking Isaiah's jaw.

They pull apart and watch each other from a few inches away. Sonny's hand stays on the side of Isaiah's neck; his gaze meets Isaiah's without wavering. "Come over for dinner," Sonny says. "Stay the night. Call in sick tomorrow. Spend the day with me."

Isaiah blinks in surprise. "That's quite the turn-around from not being able to find time to cook,” he says. 

Sonny presses another kiss to Isaiah's mouth. His other hand comes up to cup Isaiah's cheek. "I was up half the night thinking about what Voltaire would do, too."

"Did you come to a conclusion?" Isaiah murmurs, reaching up to curl his hands gently around Sonny's wrists.

"It is dangerous to be right in matters on which the established authorities are wrong," Sonny murmurs. 

Isaiah closes his eyes and smiles. "And that made you want to invite me to stay over?"

"No, it reinforced everything I admire about you."

"Appreciation is a wonderful thing;" Isaiah quotes, and the way Sonny's eyes light up make him feel like he's won even more than an innocent man's freedom. "It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well."

"Yes," Sonny says. "So, come over. Stay the night. Call in sick."

"Okay," Isaiah replies, feeling light-headed and giddy like he used to years ago at Plumb Beach. He thinks Sonny feels the same. He'll ask him during dinner, he decides as he pulls Sonny in for another kiss because he's there to kiss and wants to be kissed. Which may not be as classical a philosophy as Voltaire's, but for Isaiah, it's the only one he needs in this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to FreckledSkittles for the beta! This was a prompt from cc, and wow, it got away from me. It was great.


End file.
